


Tremor

by thealmostviki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Miscommunication, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealmostviki/pseuds/thealmostviki
Summary: Hinata has been verbal for two and a half weeks now. It's his longest stretch since he started speaking again, and he's happy about it, he really is. "Any communication is good communication," as Kuroo says, and he's right, but that doesn't stop the burning in his throat or metallic taste in his mouth. It doesn't fill the indents in his lips where he gnaws at them, restraining himself, learning to filter his thoughts. Silence is easier than all this worrying. Now there are too many chances to make mistakes.Or: Hinata learned in his past relationships how to be quiet, and no matter how much he knows better now, some things take a little longer to unlearn.





	Tremor

**Author's Note:**

> It's been _so long_ since I wrote anything oml. My course load is a lot heavier this year than I expected so I never have time to write or even edit the things I have drafted. But this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I thought I'd post what I have so far.
> 
> (EDIT: I said when I first posted this that there would be a second part but it's been months and I just can't add a follow-up. I've written out several versions of how it could go and none of them feel right. I might come back to this someday and finish it but I'm marking it as complete because this first part stands pretty well on its own. Sorry if anyone was disappointed.)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is based on my own experience. Although mine and Hinata's fears stem from similar places, my nonverbal episodes never last more than a day or two, not the months or weeks on end as is implied in this fic. I'm not mute or selectively mute, so if I'm misrepresenting something or being offensive, it's not intentional and please let me know so I can fix it and not do it again! This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are mine. Comments and criticism are much appreciated!

Shouyou woke up in his own apartment, which at the very least meant he wasn't going to have to force out an audible 'good morning' for the fourth day in a row. His mouth was dry at the thought of speech. A taste of something rotten lingered on his tongue. Meticulously, he brushed his teeth and then rinsed his mouth, relishing the antiseptic burn on the inside of his cheeks.

"That's not healthy for you," Kenma told him once. "It's stripping your mouth."

"Well, I don't do it all the time," Shouyou had said, diverting. "Oral hygiene is important."

Kenma hummed and turned back to his game, but Shouyou wasn't naive enough to think that was the end of it. Things were only put away, pushed aside. It would never be over.

Frowning, Shouyou spit out the mouthwash and watched it swirl down the sink. It was too early for introspection. He had a critique at nine that he hadn't prepared for, and he needed at least two cups of coffee before walking into what was sure to be a slaughter.

Kuroo wouldn't be awake until later that morning, but Shouyou sent him a good morning text anyway. He'd see it when he woke up, and "any communication is good communication", as Kuroo said. Shouyou had given him a dirty look the first time he'd said it, but he had to admit it was somewhat reassuring some days. Yet today wasn't some days. Today he guzzled down coffee as he sorted through his sweaters, working out his responses to the questions his professor would undoubtedly ask about his subpar project. He'd been good about defending his work for the past few weeks, but today he was burnt out and overdrawn.  Besides, he didn't think his painting was that good regardless. It should have been easy, fluid, a cascade of color.  Instead all Shouyou could see were the tired mistakes from the late nights he spent working on it. Bad weeks made bad work. More like bad artists, came the soft whisper.

Shouyou shook his head, threw on a sweater, and clamped his mouth shut. His old habits were cropping up and he knew it, but he wasn't in the mood to self-analyze. Melancholy draped over him. He turned to the plants hanging by the window and let out a frustrated breath. If he listened hard enough, he could imagine they were sighing along with him.

"Today's going to be a mess," he told them, memorizing the feel of language on his tongue, how to form words and syllables like he wasn't a petrified mess. "But after critique, it's just studio, so that's fine. Maybe Tanaka-san will be there and I can listen to him talk."

Talking to plants was easy. They didn't judge or tear apart your words and twist them until they were unrecognizable. Shouyou didn't need to measure his words around houseplants if they couldn't hear him. The clock on the stove read 8:36. Shouyou abandoned his cup in the sink, grabbed his bag and envelope and set out for the art building.

 

His critique went terrible.  His professor was in a foul mood, and ever-silent Hinata seemed to be today's target. Hinata didn't mind the actual critique much. After all, every criticism was valid. The way his professor eyed Shouyou as he gave stilted answers made heat build in his cheeks, which only made it harder to continue speaking.

"I wanted to juxtapose perspectives," he fumbled, his head filling with noise as his tongue tripped over itself. "That's why...that's why it's a mirror image. The left is the same as the right but with different focus. Points. Focus points." The shake in his voice was obvious.  Even as the questions kept coming, Shouyou felt his through closing up, making it hard to breathe. He shoved his hands in his pockets so no one could see how much he was trembling and tries his best to justify his color choice and concept until, like an engine giving out, he opened his mouth and there was no more sound. Heat radiated off his face and he sat down, averting his eyes until the rest of his critique group piped up with their own more merciful comments.

He stumbled out of the classroom struggling to control his breaths and only partially succeeding. He debated texting someone but Kuroo was at work and Kenma had class. They both had their own lives; he could manage on his own for one day.

Kuroo had texted him that morning, just a _Good morning Shouyou! Hope critique went well <3._ Shouyou tapped out as neutral a message as possible so as not to give away his bad mood. He could still salvage the day. Studio might still go fine.

He should've known he wasn't that lucky.

If fielding the poking and prodding of his friends was hard work in the best of times, today it was unmanageable. The past few weeks he'd been doing better, much to the delight of Tanaka and Terushima, who fed off his contributions like a battery. In all fairness, it was nice to know that people cared about his art and opinion, and as long as Yamaguchi was still set up next to him, playing his music too loud and passing Shouyou salted nuts, days were generally good. Every rule had it's exceptions though, and Shouyou's mood only worsened as he stared uninspired at his painting and tried and failed to tune out the conversation buzzing around him.

Terushima prodded at him incessantly, asking about his critique, his internship, Kuroo, Kenma, or any number of things to get Shouyou to join the conversation, but Shouyou said nothing. It was his own fault for setting the bar too high over the past two weeks but the thought of saying a word to anyone in the room was nauseating. Even worse than that was the guilt forming like a snowball in his stomach as his responses began to border on avoidant. Even Yamaguchi seemed concerned over his sudden silence. The more pauses filled the conversation the more Shouyou wanted to go crawl into a hole somewhere and combust. Less than an hour after he'd arrived he fumbled out some text to Yamaguchi, packed up his things and blew out the door as fast as he could, even as his classmates called after him with rising alarm. The only saving grace was that he didn't have to work today, so he didn't have to barter with Inuoka to cover his shift. He could go back to his apartment, take a shower, and spend the day sketching and hopefully he'd be well enough tomorrow to go back to business as usual. Not even ten seconds after making that decision his phone rang. 

It was Kuroo.

Of all the people Shouyou expected to call him up out of the blue, Kuroo was low on the list. Normally he'd at least text first. But maybe it was an emergency and Kuroo wasn't in a place he could text, or maybe he wanted to hear Shouyou's voice, a sentiment that Shouyou had been scrambling to keep up with as soon as he became verbal around the other. Whatever the cause, he couldn't ignore a call from his boyfriend because he felt poorly.  He steeled his nerves and accepted the call.

"Hello?" he greeted, pushing the word past his lips with as much effort as he could muster and hoping Kuroo wouldn't notice how weak it was.

_"Hey, Hinata,"_ Kuroo said, voice as easy and smooth as always. _"How was critique?"_

"Nothing special. It was harsh but everyone was honest." Shouyou's heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He could stop talking and text Kuroo this information but his whole body was tight with stress. Worse, he didn't know why he was so upset. Kuroo liked hearing his voice, liked his opinions and thoughts. He wasn't going to turn on Shouyou and yell about how irrelevant and unnecessary he was. Shouyou knew this as one of the few constants in his life.

Knowing it didn't take the fear out of forming the words.

Kuroo bulldozed ahead, oblivious to Shouyou's anguish. " _Yeah? Well, at least it wasn't too bad. I just thought I'd call and check in since I had a free minute. Are you still coming over tonight?"_

Shouyou blinked. It was Tuesday, which meant it was movie night, and since it was Kuroo's turn to pick Shouyou had been bracing himself for days to watch another depressing documentary over the food industry or the expanding Sahara Desert.

"Why don't you ever watch history documentaries or something?" he'd demanded the night they finished a particularly gory segment about how cattle are raised, slaughtered, and processed into beef. Shouyou hadn't eaten meat for almost two weeks after that one.

"Aw, come on, Shou," he'd said with that shit-eating grin of his. "Education is a continuing process even outside the classroom!" His voice was overly-pleasant and held the cadence of someone reading off a powerpoint, but Shouyou hadn't been in a humorous mood.

"Education shouldn't make me want to wash out my intestines with borax," he deadpanned, and Kuroo laughed.

Shouyou couldn't imagine what horror Kuroo would come up with today to to get a reaction out of him, a reaction he might not even be able to give because he was fresh out of steam and Kuroo didn't know sign language. And then Kuroo would be disappointed because he'd been doing so well and now they were back at square one. He'd say he wasn't bothered by it but of course he would be, because everyone was, because what kind glitchy, broken person was afraid of talking?

_"Hinata? Is everything okay?"_ Kuroo's voice had lowered and Shouyou realized he'd taken too long to respond. He counted his syllables.

"Yeah, I'm fine." His voice wavered, cracked, fell apart, the sounds dying on his lips as soon as the words were out.

_"You don't sound fine."_

_What are you hiding?_

He needed to hang up the phone.

_"If you don't want to come over tonight, that's fine, but can you tell me what's wrong at least? I can tell you're upset."_

Shouyou's eyes were as wide as saucers, his breath coming in short gasps that weren't carrying any real oxygen. He's cornered prey. Kuroo's voice was blending with the one in his head, threading together into something vile and terrible that had bile scratching at his throat and shivers running down his spine. He needed to hang up the phone.

"Shou? Please talk to me. Are you even there?"

_Are you even listening? Are you too dumb to answer me?_ The slots in his lip were his teeth cut into had just healed and now he was tearing them open again as he bit down hard enough to bleed.

_"Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?"_

Silence.

_"Shouyou."_ Annoyance crept into Kuroo's voice and anger cut through Shouyou like a knife at how unfair it was, at his professor and his classmates and how Kuroo was expecting a response from him like it was easy, as if he could make words come at will.

_"What?!"_ he demanded, harsh and loud and the fullest thing he'd said in the past month, in the past year. And just like the anger came, it receded, leaving only a cold and terrible panic.

Before Shouyou could process his own actions, he shut off his phone and shoved it in his pocket before he could drop it to the pavement. It took his three tries to unlock his apartment with shaking hands, and another two tries to turn the locks again once he was inside. Only when he was finally inside, with his shoes off and his bag hung up and his mouth rinsed out once again, did he allow himself to cry.

_No one wants to hear your dumb opinion, Shouyou._

_Shut up,_ he thought back, but even in his head, his voice was meek and pathetic. He threw his phone on the counter and didn't even care as it skidded into the sink. What did he need a phone for? Pretty soon he'd have no friends and no boyfriend to talk to anyway.

_Don't mind Shouyou, he likes to listen to himself talk._

The air conditioner stirred the leaves of the plants, which shifted indifferently. They couldn't hear him. Nobody could.

_Do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?_

Shouyou wiped his tears on his sweater, locked himself in his bedroom, and slept.

    

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up anytime at either of my tumblrs: [@ohnodatekou](https://ohnodatekou.tumblr.com/) (HQ and writing) or [@almostviki](http://almostviki.tumblr.com/) (my main)


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